Blue Star
by Foeseeker
Summary: The Doctor and Clara stumble across an unpolished girl in the 22nd century-ruins of one of earth's greatest cities. She intends to join them come hell or high water, but they are being tracked, and when you're something's prey running can take you straight into the trap. Sometimes there is no way to win. Set between The Day of the Doctor and The Time of the Doctor.
1. Blossom of Snow - Stranger

"Hurry up, Doctor, I don't like this!"

"Just hang on one minute, Clara, you're doing fine!"

Clara took his advice literally and got a solid grip on the Tardis console with one hand, frantically jiggling a lever with the other as the Tardis wobbled and jerked drunkenly. The Doctor pawed through the pockets of his spare coat getting more and more frustrated. The Tardis was malfunctioning, the Doctor was looking for his screwdriver so he could fix it, and so Clara was flying the teetering, sputtering Tardis. And despite the good terms she and the Tardis were now on, there are days when even best friends are not in the most congenial of moods.

There was a particularly harsh jerk and Clara was flung sideways. Her white-knuckle grip on the console saved her from getting her face mashed into a series of switches, but her hand slipped from the lever. Apparently whatever it did had been helping, because the Tardis began to tip from side to side – like a bobble head statue, Clara thought wildly – and the tips rapidly increased in degree.

"Doctor!"

"Move the lever! Keep moving the lever!" The Doctor also had been flung sideways, but not having a hold on anything had left him rather uncomfortably deposited on the console deck rail. He struggled to extract himself as the floor tipped crazily beneath him. "It'll keep the ship's gravity centralized until I can get that stabilizer fixed!"

Clara obeyed and the awful side-to-side motion stopped, although the Tardis' unsteady shaking didn't completely subside. "Where's your screwdriver?"

"It's not in this coat." The Doctor dropped the coat onto the rail with disgust. "It must be in my vest back in the ward-"

There was a silver flash and a clink, and the sonic screwdriver slid from the coat's inner pocket onto the deck. The Tardis' movement promptly sent it tumbling over the edge onto the floor below.

"How did you not find that?!" Clara gasped with some exasperation.

"The pockets are bigger in the inside!" Flapping arms and coattails propelled the Doctor down the stairs. Clara was about to reply when a strange sound caught her attention.

"Is that you, Clara? Kind of an odd time for singing." The buzzing of the sonic could be heard from below as the Doctor's muffled voice floated upward. He had something in his mouth, probably the end of some live wire or another as he tinkered at the base of the console. "Though I'm always one for a song. Do you know 'The Seven Hues of the Maiden Fair'? Oh, I forgot, I haven't taken you there yet; remind me of that later! You'll love Harry, good old Harry of Devonshire – wonderful chap, great singer and storyteller, entertained William the Conqueror once – positively raves about the man, although he'd probably get beheaded if he didn't, so we can excuse him for that. "

"Doctor."

"It's a shame that song hasn't been passed on to your time. Lots of songs have, you know – there are even some songs from the Romans still around. I had a friend who was a Roman. Sort of. Not really. A kind of Nestene Roman duplicate human. Long story. But anyway –"

"Doctor!"

"Yes?"

"That's not me singing."

"Well, where's it coming from, then?"

"The monitor."

"Not that, where's its source?"

"I don't know – the monitor's blank, it's not showing anything."

"Hit the little blue button to your right."

Clara reached for the button, and the Tardis chose that moment to jerk again. She was thrown forward and a yell came from below – the Doctor had probably been flung into the mess of cables and pipes beneath the console. This was confirmed by a couple popping and sizzling noises followed by a loud string of "No's."

"What's wrong? What's happening?"

"I fell and broke the cable to the inertial damper, and the stabilizer's overworking to compensate and can't because it's broken and she's falling through the time vortex!"

This did nothing to ease Clara's state of mind. Neither did the awful metallic grinding sound that now came from below, clashing horribly with the gentle melody from the monitor. The girl got to her feet, keeping a firm grip on the lever. "What's that screeching noise?"

"It's the engines trying to function without proper stability, just – keep moving that lever or we'll crash in the time vortex!"

"How does that even work?!"

Any reply was cut short by several explosions and a burst of sparks from below. The Doctor yelled something Clara couldn't make out, and there was an awful dropping sensation and a terrible moment of breathless silence. Then there came a violent bump and a quivering of the whole Tardis, and the grinding sound of landing swelled and died away into a gentle hum. The singing, however, only got louder.

"Clara! Are you all right?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine!" Clara gasped. "Did … did we land?"

"Yes, and that's not supposed to happen." The Doctor clambered up the stairs. His hair looked positively feral, and Clara would have teased him if her heart weren't doing its best imitation of a galloping horse. He frowned at the blank monitor screen. "Did you enter any coordinates, hit anything?"

"No, I was mostly worried about moving that lever and not getting my nose broken on your console. I never touched anything."

"Hmm." He continued to scowl at the monitor as though daring it to reveal a secret. Suddenly he spun on his heel and bounded around the console, hitting buttons and throwing switches. Clara watched in bewilderment.

"If I wasn't supposed to touch anything in case we wind up over the rainbow, what are you doing?"

"Trying to trace that signal."

"What signal?"

"The singing. The Tardis was picking it up before we landed. It must have locked onto the source and used that as landing coordinates, which means it must have been fairly interesting."

"Interesting? What do you mean?"

"Well, a lot of stuff winds up in the time vortex – light waves, radio beacons, an occasional cat – and the Tardis filters out the things that aren't important."

"How does the Tardis know what are the important things?"

"She just does, like my phone calls – she filters them and only lets the interesting and important ones through. But this isn't just interesting, she used it to land! She's never done something like that before! Now, if I can just figure out what kind of signal it is and where it's coming from we can…"

"Can what?"

"I don't know, depends on what it is." He banged the monitor. "Aaah, come on! It's just a signal wave, show me what kind!"

The monitor beeped a couple times, and "SIGNAL UNKNOWN" flashed across the screen. The Doctor muttered something under his breath and pushed several more buttons. The same thing happened.

"So … what's that supposed to mean?"

The Time Lord's frown had deepened. "It can't identify it, but … that's not possible!"

"Why not?"

"The TARDIS knows the frequencies and wavelengths and pretty much everything about every kind of signal there is. Which means … which means that this isn't a signal of that kind – not radio waves or anything."

"What could it be, then? Couldn't someone have some sort of signal on scramble?"

"No, no, she'd at least be able to identify it, even if I couldn't figure out what they were saying. No, this is … I'm not sure. Possibly a psychic projection, although it would have to be unbelievably powerful to get into the Tardis."

"Well, you did say the Tardis picked it up. Maybe it's not all that powerful at all, the Tardis just happened to decide it's important."

"Hmm, maybe. You never can tell with such things." The Doctor clattered down the stairs and disappeared under the console deck. "Let me just finish fixing this and then we'll go have a look."

"If you're going to be a few minutes, I'll go get our heavy coats."

"Heavy coat? Why?"

Clara grinned. Such a man. "I just looked at the exterior scanner. It's five below out there, and snowing."

"Snow, snow is cool. Very cool. Very cold. Amy once put a handful down my shirt as a joke … Clara! Get my hat, too!"

Some minutes later the girl returned with an armload of coats, scarves, gloves, and hats to find the Doctor gleefully tinkering beneath the console. She dumped her burden on a seat and leaned over the rail. "So how's it look?"

The Doctor stuffed his screwdriver into his jacket pocket and bounded up the stairs, reaching for his overcoat. "All finished! Part of the gyroscopic stabilizer had gotten loose somehow – just tightened it up."

"You mean you actually used that thing as a screwdriver?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You really must show me that feature sometime – it should earn its name." She pulled his hat away as he reached for it and brandished a comb at him. "Uh-uh, I don't know if you've checked the mirror lately, but you look like an electrocuted giraffe. Go on, tidy up. We're not going anywhere until you're halfway presentable."

"I could just put the hat on top – no one would notice!"

"Of course not, with all the bits sticking out on the sides, no one would notice at all. Comb. Now."

* * *

A short while later they were both outside, blinking as cold white flakes drifted into their faces. Snow already blanketed the ground and Clara was glad for the high-topped boots she'd though to put on, for the powder came past her ankles. No footprints could be seen anywhere – not that they could see very far through the whirling flakes – and a hushed silence enveloped everything. On one side, the ground sloped gently away to a flat white plain – maybe a frozen river. On the other side, strange lumps rose abruptly from the ground shrouded in an aura of abandoned mystery.

"Wow … it's beautiful."

"That's not right." The Doctor had a bemused expression as he sniffed the air. "No, that can't be right."

"What isn't?"

He pulled out his screwdriver and pointed it in a random direction before inspecting it. "This is Earth in the 22nd century. But they have warp drive now, and a colony on Mars, and anti-grav bikes – so where is everyone?"

"Maybe we landed in a place with no people?"

"But the Tardis homed in on something."

"Well, she isn't always the most accurate with landings. Whatever it was could be a long way away."

The Doctor didn't answer and started pointing his screwdriver around again. The green diode at its tip made the snowflakes glow eerily around his outstretched hand. Clara looked about while he played with his gadget, and her eye fell on one of the strange lumps. She couldn't tell what it was made of, but one side was sheer and bore what appeared to be scorch marks. Perhaps they'd landed in the wreckage of some burned-down building. "Doctor –"

"Ah! This way!" The Doctor suddenly bounded off brandishing his screwdriver like a divining rod. Clara hurried after him and remembered quickly how difficult it is to run in powdery stuff that comes past one's ankles.

"Doctor, where are we going?"

"There's a life form in this direction. Hurry up!"

"But that'll take us out on the ice! Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"When have I ever stuck to good ideas?"

"Just promise we'll go back if there's any cracking."

"Okay, I promise. Now come on!"

They headed out onto the flat white plain. It was definitely ice – Clara could tell that at once – but the layer of snow gave excellent traction. The fluffy white stuff was somewhat thinner here, though, and keeping up with the Doctor became less difficult. She tried to tread lightly, worried that any cracks in the ice would be hidden until it was too late. "Um, Doctor, how far are we going?"

"Not sure – I can't see much with this snow, and I don't think…"

He suddenly trailed off and crouched beside a jumbled mound of white fabric and brown leather. Clara peered curiously over his shoulder as he scanned the bundle and then pulled aside a loose fold of material. She gasped as the face of a young woman appeared, nested in a crudely made fur hood and edged with a few stray wisps of damp brown hair. The Doctor touched the stranger's neck, then her forehead, pushing the hood back to feel the skull.

"Is she…?"

"No, she's alive, just unconscious."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. No bumps on the head or any marks at all."

"Whoever it was must have been pretty quick. Look." Clara picked up a wooden longbow and the arrow that lay beside it on the ice. "This must be hers."

"She was ice fishing – see." The Doctor moved aside a tangle of sticks and some kind of thin cord, exposing a small hole that had been hacked through the ice. The edges were rough and showed signs of fracture. "That was probably done with a rock. Careful," he warned as Clara leaned over to look. "The cracks might go under the snow – best stay back."

Clara happily retreated from the hole, and, after a moment's indecision, knelt with her back to the gentle wind to shield the stranger's exposed face from the falling snow. It was a tired, lost face whose pinched cheeks and pallid, cold-reddened skin spoke of hunger and chill and exhaustion. Dark circles ringed the eyes, the lids of which seemed almost translucent.

Those lids suddenly snapped open, and Clara cautiously slid back a bit as the stranger took a deep breath, then several, blinking dazedly and turning her head. Of a sudden she scrambled unsteadily to her feet and reached for the bow, still kneeling. The Doctor hastily pushed Clara behind him and raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "Don't shoot, don't shoot! We're not going to hurt you!"

"Sure looked like it." The voice, thick with still-returning consciousness, had an American accent. "I wake up and you're standing above me going through my stuff. Not a very good start to the 'not going to hurt you' picture."

"No harm intended, I promise." The Doctor pointed at the sticks and string that he'd been examining. "I was just admiring your handiwork."

"Sure, and trying to steal anything I might have caught." The girl eased herself to her feet, keeping the arrow pointed at them. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Honest!" Clara interjected. "We just happened by and found you on the ice, and we wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Happened by?" The girl's eyes narrowed. "How'd you get in?"

"In?" Clara echoed, bewildered. "In where?"

The arrow tip finally went down. Incredulity was written across the face of their would-be assailant. "You don't know?"

"No, we kind of got here by mistake. No idea where or when we are." Clara stood slowly, feeling her knees complaining from her weight and the cold. She kept a wary eye on the other girl, but the stranger kept the arrow pointing toward the ice, so she attempted a friendly smile. "I'm Clara, and this is Chin Boy."

"Oi!"

"Also called the Doctor."

The girl – thank God! – was relaxing, eyes moving from one to the other. "Doctor Chin Boy?"

Clara giggled in spite of herself, as much from the innocent remark as the look on the Doctor's face – or, rather, the Doctor's face's indecision to look confused, amused, or annoyed. He finally settled for an almost-but-not-quite ferocious glare at Clara and a shake of his head at the girl. "No, just the Doctor. 'Chin Boy' is not allowed."

"Doesn't stop me," Clara chimed in.

"Shut up."

"The Doctor?" The stranger was softening at their warmth and friendly banter, but she was still on her guard. "Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor."

"Hm. You sure don't look like one. What kind of a doctor wears a bow tie?" The Doctor started to protest, but he subsided when Clara poked him with her elbow. The girl kept talking as though she hadn't noticed. "How did you two get out here, anyway? You've eaten well, and you've got nice clothes. What are you doing here?"

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" asked Clara.

The girl stared. "You really don't know?"

"Not exactly, no. Not even sure what year it is."

"What year?!"

"Long story, just – could you tell us, please?"

Before the girl could reply there was a long, wild cry from the direction the travelers had come. All three turned to peer into the whirling flakes. Coming toward them were several black shapes that might be people, though they slouched dreadfully. The stranger grabbed her bow and fishing tackle and took off across the ice. "I'll answer you later. Right now, we need to get out of here."

"Why? What are those?" asked the Doctor; not having much other choice, he and Clara followed hard on the girl's heels.

"Those were … madmen. Long story, but just take my word you don't want to mess with them, and run."

"The Tardis is back there," the Doctor said uneasily, more to himself than anything else.

"Tardis?"

"My ship."

"It'll be fine, but you shouldn't go back until it's gone. Hurry, they might be following us."

It felt good to be moving again even if they were being chased, and the crunch of the snow beneath their feet became a rhythmic cadence. The creatures didn't pursue them very far, and after a short time the stranger slowed her pace to a fast walk. The travelers followed suit, and once he had recovered his breath the Doctor resumed his inquiry.

"Um, so – we were asking earlier about where and when we are…"

"February 2111, Washington, D.C.," the girl replied curtly. "Or, rather, what's left of it."

Upon hearing the year, the Doctor visibly started. Clara's brown eyes registered anxiety. "What's left of it? What do you mean?"

The stranger looked at her as though she had grown an extra arm. "You really have no idea?"

"Clara, I'm so sorry." The Doctor pressed his hand to his face. "I never meant to bring you here – not to this time."

"Why?" Clara looked from one to the other in bewilderment. "What happened?"

* * *

_Hey folks! Just a few quick notes:_

_First, I have been aided in my quest for canon by a wonderful website (tardis *dot* wikia *dot* com/wiki/Timeline wiki/Timeline - put in the dots). It has almost all the information a Whovian writer could wish for, including a timeline of all Whoniverse events. I also got a lot of help from it for the Doctor's Tardis-techy jargon. I highly recommend you take a look._

_Second, if you liked this story, you should check out Westward's AU fic "Amnesia and Other Phenomena" (www *dot* fanfiction *dot* net/s/9886166/1/Amnesia-and-Other-Phenomena, insert dots). In it, Donna goes to Uni and becomes best mates with a fellow student named John Smith. She can deal with his amnesia and insomnia and oddities and even his energetic personality. What she can't deal with is a strange man banging on her door at two in the morning, claiming to be said best mate. _

_Third (and finally), disclaimers: the cover artwork belongs to shewolf294 on deviantART (shewolf294 *dot* deviantart *dot* com - again, put in the dots), used with permission; and, much to my regret, I do not own Doctor Who._

_~Foeseeker_


	2. Blossom of Snow - Making Tracks

"What happened?" Clara demanded again, this time specifically of the stranger, since the Doctor didn't answer.

"A year and a half ago aliens destroyed the city. Burned it completely away, killed almost everyone. Happened to a lot of cities on earth."

"All over earth? Why? What did they want?"

"Natural resources. They were going to kill off all humanity and then harvest everything useful on the planet."

"What about London? Did it…"

"Burned too, as far as I know." The stranger's expression seemed to soften, or sadden – it was hard to tell in the deepening twilight. "You're British, aren't you? It was part of the first attack wave. They were able to stop the second wave, but by then…" She trailed off and abruptly altered direction. "We've gone far enough, they're not following – should be able to head to my place now."

The Doctor and Clara kept close on the stranger's heels, the Time Lord still persisting with his questions. "If everything burned, how come you're here?"

"I survived."

"You were in the city when it burned?"

"Yeah, I was. Only lived through it 'cause I was in the subway, and when the flames came down I got into a maintenance closet. It was so hot and burned up so much air I passed out, but I made it." She glanced at the Time Lord a bit defensively. "Why?"

"I was there." The Doctor looked distant. "So much was lost, so many people died. How long were you in there?"

"Dunno, really, maybe a day. I was so scared – had to sing to calm myself down. Old habit of mine."

This piqued the Doctor's interest. "You sing?"

The girl seemed puzzled by his interest but replied frankly. "Not really. I mean, I've never taken lessons or been in a choir or anything. Some of my friends did, but I never really had the time. I do like music, though. When I was a kid I saved up to buy a micropod. Still have the thing, actually, although the battery's dead; it was in my pocket that day."

"What music do you like?"

"Oh, all kinds. I'm not really picky, but classical is nice – I got to go to a concert once. When I make up stuff it's usually kind of classical; keeps me entertained, not that I have much time to be bored anymore." She nodded forward. "We're close to the shore. Better go quietly for a minute until I'm sure there's nobody around."

This new area was similar to where the Tardis had landed – large, irregular mounds of stone and metal, some with scorch marks visible where the snow was unable to stick. Now that Clara knew what they were they looked sad instead of mysterious. She had never been to the United States capitol, but she had seen it many times in pictures and on television. 2111 … a hundred years into Clara's relative future. In a hundred years, the city's population had probably grown exponentially. She wondered how many people had died – millions and millions, if other cities burned, too. Sadly she thought of London going up in flames. In a hundred years she would no longer be alive, but would any of her children or grandchildren or great-grandchildren be killed in the burning? She shuddered and pushed the thought away; it was too awful to think about. Instead she turned her mental energy to their guide and quickly realized something.

"I'm so sorry – we never asked your name." The other girl turned puzzled blue eyes on her and she smiled apologetically. "Not sure how I didn't think of it until now."

"No big deal – I probably wouldn't have told you, anyway. Cautious habit." The stranger nodded politely to the travelers. "I'm Erin – Erin Reddick."

"The pleasure is ours," replied the Doctor with a smile, tipping his hat. "Now, um, I was wondering – what were those back there?"

"Those were madmen."

"What does that mean? Are they rabid or something?"

"Well, these aren't rabid, but they've gone insane, act like animals. I always avoid them – it's best to stay clear of them altogether; they're unpredictable and can be horribly violent. One of them almost got me once, and he tried to bite my throat open."

Clara shuddered. "But they're human?"

"Yeah, they're human. Gives me the creeps every time I see them. They'll eat anything, kill anything with anything, live in dens like animals – it's awful. I just pray I don't end up like them. Here we are."

The abrupt change of subject jarred the two travelers almost as much as their strange destination. It appeared to be the ruins of a large office building, and huge steel girders stuck up into the air like a massive ribcage. Debris covered the area and nearby a beam leaned drunkenly against a heap of wreckage. It was toward this that Erin picked her way. Then she ducked underneath and disappeared. "Come on, it's safe. I wouldn't want to live in a place that might fall on me any more than you would."

The Doctor entered first, stooping to keep his hat from getting knocked off. Clara, being shorter, followed with more ease and found herself in almost pitch darkness. Erin's voice came from a few paces away. "This way. Go slowly – there's lots of things to trip on."

Clara grabbed the Doctor's hand, as much for comfort as for balance. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she heard him fumbling in his coat pocket. Then to her great relief the sonic screwdriver's diode bathed them and their surroundings in an eerie green glow. Erin stared at it in bewilderment. "What is that thing?"

"It's a sonic screwdriver – useful for a lot of things, but for now it makes an excellent torch." The Doctor raised the little gadget and studied the narrow tunnel in which they stood. He noted a bundle of wires that had been pulled out of the way and secured to a broken pipe. "I see you've cleaned up down here."

"As much as I could – keep from killing myself in the dark." The girl shrugged. She had pulled her hood down upon entering the tunnel, revealing a single braid that fell halfway down her back. "There's still a lot of stuff I couldn't move, though, so watch your step. And your head," she added with a gleam of amusement as the Doctor took a step forward and had his hat promptly knocked from his head.

"I'll keep that in mind. Clara, could you carry my hat? I need to hold the sonic."

"Fine, giraffe, but next time I'm getting you a cap. That top hat is ridiculous."

"No it's not!"

"When will you ever learn not to argue with a woman when it comes to fashion?"

"Never."

"Come back to me on that when your chin has worn holes in all those nice shirts of yours."

"Oi!"

"So, Erin, where exactly are we going?"

"I live underneath here. Not a big place, but hard to find and a good shelter. Come on, I'll show you the way."

"The way" turned out to be a kind of three-dimensional maze that involved climbing over, under, between, and around various kinds of debris. The Doctor especially, being taller than both girls, had difficulty in some places, but he somewhat breathlessly continued asking questions. "What did you mean earlier when you said you didn't want to 'end up like them'?"

"A few of them used to have fainting spells like mine. Then whatever the problem is got worse and they went crazy. I don't want the same thing to happen to me."

"What caused your spells?"

"Don't know, but they started right after the city burned. Ever since then I just randomly pass out."

"Nothing triggers them?"

"Well, if something does, I still haven't figured it out. I'd just had one when you found me."

"How often are they?"

"Depends. Sometimes I'll have none for a month and then I'll have four or five in a day." She led them through a gap in what might have once been a wall. "Everyone's affected eventually when they come here – you two should leave as soon as you can, or it'll get you, too."

They emerged into a stairwell. The shaft above had been crushed by a falling girder, but the lower section was still intact. Erin led them down the stairs, which had been cleared of the worst of the debris. Clara noted with a touch of pity the strange girl's habit of neatness. What an awful place to live for a person who loved tidiness and order.

The Doctor was still asking questions, a bit less breathless now that he wasn't worming his way through a maze of rubble. "What do you mean, 'affected'? How come we're in any danger?"

"Since the burnings some people have come here looking for easy pickings – stuff they can find from the museums, hard money, things like that. After a little while, though, they all start acting strangely, just like everyone who survived the fire. Some people pass out, like me. Others get dizzy or hear loud noises. Some go mad. Most do end up going mad at some point."

At the foot of the stairs their route seemed to dead end in a small cinder block cubicle. The concrete floor was bare save for a piece of sheet metal in one corner. Clara nodded toward it. "What's that?"

"There's a hole underneath," Erin replied. "It leads to the storm drains, but there are ways to go between the drains and sewers and subway tunnels. I don't like going down there myself – it's too easy to get lost now that the lights are out, and lots of shady folks hang around there. Doctor, what are you doing?"

The Doctor had knelt to inspect what looked like scuff marks. He pointed to them with a frown. "What are these?"

"Lord only knows. I didn't make them, if that's what you're wondering."

"No, I could tell that." He pointed the sonic at the marks and then inspected it. "It was quick, whatever it was – only just left."

"It could have been anything, maybe a raccoon or fox. Nothing worth worrying about." The girl pushed open a door set in the wall – it seemed a miracle that it was still intact – and motioned for the travelers to enter. "Come in, there should be enough space."

It was tiny, a cave-like place formed in the shattered remains of what might have been a room or hallway. A bed of furs, rags, and dried grass stood in one corner covered with a tattered blanket, while against the wall was a large heap of wood and a few crates and boxes. A faint odor of smoke filled the air, and Clara was about to inquire about this when Erin knelt and blew on a little pile of embers nestled in the mouth of a large pipe. The Doctor noted this with a touch of admiration.

"Is that a chimney?"

"The pipe? Of sorts, yeah. Keeps most of the smoke out of here, at least, but the heat stays in. Can be a pain to cook on, though – I do a lot of that in there." Erin pointed to a dirty curtain close to the door, though what lay beyond it she gave no further indication. Instead she pointed to the bed. "Go ahead and sit down – once this is going there'll be a bit more light and you won't need that green thing. Sorry about the tight space."

Clara murmured not to mention it as she hesitantly sat down beside the Doctor, feeling an ache of pity for the other girl. This place was such a far cry from anything she'd ever known as home – the cottage where she'd grown up, the Maitlands' house, her new flat near the Coal Hill School, even the Tardis. They had always been cozy and happy, filled with light and warmth and a feeling of safety. This place more closely resembled the bunkers she'd seen in World War II films, except in those there had been families huddled together with torches and quilts. Here there was a solitary young woman with a ragged blanket and a few glowing coals to illumine the subterranean rubbish hole she called home.

They sat in silence for some minutes. Erin was focused on the fire she was building, and both Clara and the Doctor were preoccupied with their own thoughts. Finally the Doctor stirred and looked over at Erin. "Earlier you were talking about how people go mad here."

"Hmm?" Erin glanced up from her little fire, which was now burning merrily. "Sorry, I don't remember…"

"You said people here act strange, and some go mad."

"Oh yeah, that. What was it you were asking?"

"Well … you don't know what's causing all this?"

"Correct."

"And everyone who comes here eventually goes mad?"

"Yeah."

"So if this is what's left of the United States capitol, why isn't anyone fixing the problem? This is the 22nd century, there are lots of sciencey people, so where's cures, and food, and clothes, and people to make plans? You humans love your plans – isn't someone making plans to fix all this?"

"Dunno, haven't heard anything. 'You humans'? Aren't you human?"

"No, I'm a Time Lord. Who would you hear anything from?"

"People coming in from outside. What's a Time Lord?"

"An alien. Coming into where? What's outside?"

"Into the city – well, the burned area. People sneak in from outside it. An alien? Do you mean a kind of alien?"

"Yeah, totally separate species, look human but are very much not. Why sneak in?"

"The whole area's sectioned off – no one's supposed to go in or out. If you're an alien from another planet, what're you doing here?" Erin suddenly got suspicious. "Did you have anything to do with the burning?"

"No, no, no, I didn't – not in that way, at least. I was with UNIT over in Britain, but for once a human beat me to the solution." The Doctor looked properly vexed at this. "I was having a bad day, and it was Mel's first time out, and I was distracted. Why's this place not allowed? Seems mixed up to me."

"After the fire some people left, but they were already having problems and then people around them started getting sick, so they quarantined off all the burned places until they can figure out what's wrong. They're basically treating the burned cities like radioactive hazard zones, except that anyone who's spent time here becomes radioactive, too. We can't leave – they have guards around the borders. If you're caught trying to escape, you might be shot." She nodded at Clara. "If he's an alien, are you an alien, too? How do you both know English – British-sounding English?"

"I'm as human as they come, thanks, and I'm British – English kind of comes with the territory, you Americans just got it from us."

"No need to get touchy, Clara," the Doctor cut in. "English is just a mix-up of German and Latin and Norse and French with a cuppa tea and a pince-nez. Pince-nez, rhymes with fez, I really must use that. Sorry, anyway, I learned English in school and my teacher had a British accent, so that's how she taught us. Besides, I like British people, good manners, drink tea, play cricket - I do love a good cricket match. And they're better at naming sports. Really, American football, with the pointy ball and all the throwing and catching and next to no kicking? Football? really?"

Erin looked incredulous. "How come they know English on another planet?"

"We're a very advanced civilization, lots of technology, time travel, the whole lot, now stop changing the subject."

"What subject?"

"What I was talking about."

"You were talking about how you're an alien."

"A Time Lord, and I was talking about the mess around here."

"Fine, fine, I guess since I'm the host I have to be polite and talk about what my guest wants."

"When there's important stuff I don't always have good manners. Don't give me that look, Clara."

"What look?"

"That look."

"I look, it's kind of a natural thing."

"But you have your special look."

"What special look?"

"Your 'Oh, really?' look."

"Really? Since when have I ever had such a look?"

"ANYway!" Erin interrupted. "You said you wanted to know what was going on. Short answer, nothing much, 'cept people going mad. The folks outside haven't completely left us – every so often they fly over and drop blankets and clothes and food and things, but when they do it kind of turns into something from _The Hunger Games_."

"Good books," Clara remarked, glad to finally find some common ground. "They just came out a few years ago for me – about a hundred years ago to you. Still around then?"

"Yeah, I found them in the library. So you're both time travelers?"

"Well, he is, I'm kind of tagging along for the ride."

"How come you're from ... what, a hundred years ago, and time travelling? We don't have that now."

"He picked me up there."

"Do people get hurt when they drop supplies?" the Doctor interrupted, impatient to get back to the matter at hand.

"Sometimes. Well, a bit more than sometimes, really. The scuffles – they get a little crazy, especially when the madmen show up. But hey, I survived the apocalypse; I think I can handle a little crazy." She grinned wryly. "I've been lucky at the supply dumps a few times – that's how I got that blanket and some of my clothes. Food I mostly gather or trap myself, and the bow helped, once I figured out how to make it."

"Where'd you find the wood?" asked the Doctor, nodding to the heap against the wall.

"Down by the river mostly, but some of it I just picked up – there's plenty of unburned stuff if you care to look for it. That reminds me." She jumped to her feet and headed for the curtain she'd pointed out earlier. "I'll get you all something to eat – won't be much, sorry, but I don't think you could find your way back on your own, and I don't like going out at night – too many creeps around."

"Should we eat?" Clara whispered once Erin had disappeared into the other room. "I'll feel terribly guilty – I mean, look at her. Maybe she has enough food to get by, but she's still starving."

"We probably should." The Doctor seemed just as reluctant, but better judgment told him that their host would be affronted by a refusal. "She'd be terribly insulted if we didn't – best to accept. You might not like the taste, though, just warning you."

"After those gothyo berries you made me try I think I can handle pretty much anything."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I didn't know they're only edible when they're cooked."

"Next time –" Clara suddenly broke off and stared at the curtain. "Doctor, listen!"

Erin was singing. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about how she was singing, for her voice was pleasant but unschooled. What caught their attention was what she was singing. There were no words, just a simple, pretty tune, but it was the same one they'd heard on the Tardis earlier that day. Confusion was etched on Clara's face. "Was she the one singing when we landed? How can she have done that?"

The Doctor groaned and held his head in his hands. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. This is so very, very much not good."

* * *

_In case you were wondering, the "burning" Erin's talking about took place in the movie _Independence Day_. In the book _Heart of Stone_, the Doctor said the film was predictive fiction and its events actually took place in the year 2109 A.D. – about a year and a half before the events here. If you want evidence, here it is: tardis *dot* wikia *dot* com/wiki/2109, put in the dots.  
_

_If you're enjoying this story, you should take a look at Garmonbozia's _Season of the Witch_ (www *dot* fanfiction *dot* net/s/9887953/1/Season-Of-The-Witch, insert dots). One mystery is fun. Two mysteries is even more fun. Three mysteries is hard work. Three mysteries and the unwanted attentions of a soul collector from 1974...? Maybe the Doctor has finally bitten off more than he can chew. In fact, just check out all her stuff. Seriously. I've been having a ball for days reading (and re-reading) her stories._

_Foeseeker_


	3. Blossom of Snow - Cat and Mouse

"How could she have been singing in the Tardis?"

"I don't know." The Doctor still had his head between his hands and Clara couldn't see his face, but his voice betrayed his frustration. "If that was her, she had to have an incredibly powerful psychic projection – nothing like that has ever breached the Tardis' system."

"Could the Tardis have just picked it up?"

"It's possible, but I don't see why. She'd have to think it very important."

"Well, maybe she did. Wait – is Erin … um … having any of those projections now?"

"Can't tell – it's the Tardis that's affected, not us."

"If she is she must not know about it."

"Maybe, but it's still possible for someone to be unconscious of – aha!" The Doctor suddenly smacked his forehead and Clara jumped in surprise. "That's it!"

"What is?"

"Unconscious – she was unconscious when we found her, remember?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Her fainting spells started when the city was burned, so the cause must be alien – probably some sort of residue from the stuff they used for the fire. Humans don't have psychic projection abilities, at least now, but if they got infected with something alien they might get them."

"Infected? So something alien has infected her?"

"Eh, bad word choice. Maybe. Not sure. But you get the idea. Anyhow, the effects come and go on her, so maybe, maybe, the fainting is just part of it."

"Are you saying that when she faints her mind … projects?"

"Basically. Unconscious human thought amplified by some sort of alien substance."

"But if that's so, wouldn't the other people have the same thing?"

"Maybe not. They're all different, remember. It's strange though, you'd think a human psychic projection would have words – you know, be saying things. Like when the Great Intelligence was in the wi-fi and you were uploaded, the link to your mind in the robotic server had words. This girl, though – she projects music. I've never seen a human do that before."

"Well, she did say she likes music. Maybe she just happened to be thinking of it."

"Could be." The Doctor rubbed his temple, vexed. "There's something here I can't put my finger on, something important. That kind of psychic force, it doesn't seem natural…"

He lapsed into silent thought, his face haggard and old. Clara tucked her feet up and leaned against him, and he absently placed an arm across her shoulders. They remained that way, staring at the fire, until Erin returned with a dented pot and a three mismatched spoons. She placed the pot on the floor close to their feet and looked with puzzlement toward the Doctor. "Is he okay?" she asked Clara.

"Yeah, he's just thinking." The girl nudged her friend. "Hey, Chin Boy, rise and shine."

"Hm? Ah." The Time Lord came out of his reverie enough to accept one of the proffered spoons from the American, who had sat down opposite them. Clara tried not to show hesitation as she downed a mouthful of the concoction, which seemed to consist of water, meat, and some kind of chopped root. To her surprise it wasn't bad – somewhat bland (there was a conspicuous taste of melted snow), but palatable. The Doctor still seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts and remained silent, so Clara struck up a conversation of her own.

"We were enjoying listening to you sing in there. What was it?"

"That? Oh, it's just something I made up this afternoon."

It's quite lovely – I wish I could come up with things like that."

"You probably could if you tried. I don't have any training – just playing around."

"Not everyone can do that," the Doctor replied, tuning in at last. "'Course, I can – wrote a lovely piece once, 'Ode to the Universe.' But not everyone can just make up something the way you did."

"But I haven't had any lessons."

"Doesn't matter. Music is special, one of the most powerful things in the universe, but some people are more sensitive to it than others."

Erin thought about this for a minute. The Doctor kept talking. "Music isn't just orchestras and pop stars and people with albums and downloads and concerts. Everybody has it, all around them, everywhere, inside their heads. But you – you have a special gift."

"What makes you say that?" For some reason this seemed to bother Erin instead of encourage her.

The Doctor shrugged, tactfully neglecting to mention his and Clara's earlier conversation. "Not everyone can compose the way you can."

"Hm."

"What? You don't like it?"

"No, it's just – I always liked music, but I never had time to do anything with it. Now I'll never get the chance." She sighed and put down her spoon. The pot was empty by now anyway. "When I was little we had an audiochip with Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_ on it. It was my favorite – I'd listen to it over and over again." A small smile twitched at her mouth. "I think Mom got a little tired of it after a while."

"What happened to her?" Clara asked gently.

"She died." Erin was matter-of-fact. "My whole family did. I went back home once the flames died down; there was nothing left. Everyone who survived, we lost everyone else. Sal's two daughters, Juan's wife and family, all of them."

"Don't you miss them?"

"'Course I miss them. I was an absolute wreck for the first couple days after I went back and found everything gone. But I had to live, so I pulled myself together and moved on. It doesn't hurt so much anymore – besides, they don't have to see this place. It would have broken Dad's heart; he lived his whole life in D.C., had so many memories here, and they're gone now." She gathered up the spoons and now-empty pot. "Speaking of which, I'll take you both back to your ship in the morning. The sooner you're out of here, the better it will be for you."

"What about you?" said Clara.

"What about me?"

"What will you do?"

"I'll get by, I'm fine here. Not much choice, really – if I leave, I'll get people sick. It's not as bad here as you might think – I like having time to myself, and there's always something to do."

"She's so lonely," Clara murmured sadly after the other girl had disappeared into the other room. "Why won't she say it?"

"It's easier to cope with being alone if you don't admit you're lonely in the first place," the Doctor replied. As had happened many times before Clara felt her heart go out to him. She knew where that remark came from – long years spent seeing wonders without someone to share them with, having adventures without someone to run beside, wandering the universe without a hand to hold. Not knowing what to say, she leaned against his shoulder. He seemed to guess her thoughts and wrapped her in a hug, planting a kiss on her head. "Clara, my Clara, what would I do without you?"

"Go running off places with your hair uncombed."

That elicited his special smile, the gentle, tender one that appeared only on rare occasions. It reminded her of the look her father used to give her when she was little and did something special for him that only a child would think of, and it always made her feel protected and safe. She curled up against the Time Lord suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day. He kept an arm around her and shifted his weight so he could lean against the wall. Sleep started to prick Clara's eyelids, and she was nodding off by the time Erin returned and folded herself up at the other end of the little bed.

The two travelers were asleep within minutes. Their young host stayed away a while longer, nursing the fire and reflecting pensively on her own secret thoughts. Eventually, however, she too dozed off, and the little hole was quiet save for the rhythmic sound of breathing. The trio slept soundly – at least, soundly enough not to be disturbed by a dark form that eased itself through the door and crouched beside Erin. Then it fixed its eyes on her and began to concentrate.

* * *

"Clara! Clara, wake up!"

Clara groaned and opened her eyes. Her heart pounded painfully a couple times before she identified the strange face above her as Erin's. "What time is it … Erin, what's wrong?"

"It's just before sunrise, and the Doctor's gone."

Clara was suddenly aware that she no longer leaned against the Doctor, as she last remembered, but was lying on her side. She sat up and looked around the room with mounting anxiety. "What happened, where did he go?"

"He was gone when I woke up – must have somehow gotten the door open without waking us. I'll show you."

Feeling grubby from sleeping in her clothes and somewhat irritated with the Doctor for disappearing without a by-your-leave, Clara pulled herself to her feet. Erin led her out of the cave into the stairwell and pointed. "There."

"Oh, Doctor, you idiot." Clara stared in dismay at the gaping hole in the floor, whose sheet metal cover from the day before now lay a couple feet off to the side. She had no doubt where her friend had gone – she knew him too well. On an impulse, she glanced at the surrounding floor. Sure enough, just visible in the dim light filtering through the doorway from the glowing embers were the strange tracks that the Doctor had been so curious about.

"What's he doing? When do you think he'll be back?" Erin asked.

Clara tried to collect her thoughts. "No idea. Although this time …" She trailed off and inspected the tracks again. They were faint but clear in the dust that covered the floor – large and round, blurred as though covered in thick fur. "I think he was following whatever made these."

Erin crouched down to study the strange prints. Clara saw her place a hand on one of them, and even though that hand was markedly bigger than Clara's it still didn't come even close to covering the print. The American looked up at the other girl with bewilderment. "Have you seen these kinds of tracks before?"

Clara shook her head. "Should we go after him?"

Erin hesitated. Clara could tell she had no desire to venture down into the dark tunnels. "Is he armed?"

"Not unless you count his screwdriver."

"Some of the people down there have guns. he could be in trouble." Erin stood up, looking unhappy. "We should go down. Let me get my bow – we might need it."

"Is there anything we could use for a light?"

"Do you know how to make a torch?"

"Yeah, the Doctor taught me how."

"I'll show you were everything is."

Five minutes later Clara watched as Erin reluctantly swung herself into the hole. The girl glanced up at Clara, who held a burning torch in one hand. "Think you can handle a ladder with that thing?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay, just don't drop the torch on me." She tried to force a smile, but Clara could tell she was not keen on this. "Oh, and when we're in there, whisper, or don't talk at all. You wouldn't believe how sound can carry."

Clara watched Erin's brown head disappear into the hole, then clambered down. She found the climb easier than she'd expected, and in a few moments she was at the bottom. The American was already scanning the tunnel with an arrow already on her bowstring. Clara noted this with some disapproval. "You're ready to shoot? What if we find the Doctor?"

"Don't worry, I won't shoot at him. A guy wearing that kind of outfit is kind of hard to miss, even in the dark. Could you raise the torch?"

Clara obliged and together they surveyed the tunnel. It was perhaps six feet in diameter, made of concrete and slick with ice at the bottom. The damage down here from the fire was minimal, but soot and burnt paper still littered the place. Erin studied the ground. "They went this way. See, claw marks."

"Were does that lead?"

"Not sure, honestly. It's been a while since I was down here – last time a couple men tried to assault me."

"You don't have to do this, you know. I can find the Doctor on my own."

"Do you really think I'd let you go by yourself? Come on, let's go."

They started down the tunnel, hugging the wall to avoid the ice. Erin led the way and Clara followed right behind with the torch held aloft. Neither spoke for fear of attracting the attention of whatever might be down here – as Erin had said, sound carried unbelievably far. Even the shuffling of their footsteps echoed hollowly in this place. There was no other noise, and Clara wondered how far ahead the Doctor might be; he wasn't one for staying quiet long.

They passed several intersections. At each they'd halt while Erin checked for tracks; then they'd continue on in the direction their quarries had taken. The steady downward progression of the tunnels made Clara uneasy, and she'd by now lost all sense of direction. They began to hear rustlings down some of the tunnels they were passing. Clara wasn't sure if she hoped they were rats or people; she just knew she had no desire to meet either.

Finally they came to an intersection that was bigger than the others and had a heavy stainless steel door in one wall. The tracks led strait to this door, which stood partially open. The two girls approached it and then hesitated.

"Do you want to keep going?" asked Erin. She was looking decidedly unhappy; Clara was somehow reminded of a child sitting in the waiting room of the dentist's office.

"I have to. You should go back, though; there's no reason for you to be mixed up in this."

"Not gonna happen."

Clara managed a grin. "Well, then, as the Doctor might say – geronimo!"

They stepped through the door and found themselves at the head of another ladder. Erin again descended first with Clara right behind, and at the bottom they found themselves in a much larger tunnel. It was still round, but the floor had been leveled off for two gleaming sets of steel tracks. Thankfully there were no sounds coming from either direction, at least for the moment. Erin studied the place. "We're in one of the subway tunnels. I think I know where we are."

"As in exact location or general idea?"

"A bit of both, I think. General idea of exact location."

"You sounded just like the Doctor right there."

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't be – it can rub off."

"Not really rubbing off, just thinking out loud – ah, here we go!" She pointed at the ground. "See, there're scrapes on the concrete from claws, and the dust has been disturbed, like back in the stairwell."

"Where'd you learn to track?"

"Didn't have much of a choice after the fire, it was kind of track or starve – or get killed, take your pick. Hm, they're heading towards the Plaza. Maybe whatever it is has a den there."

"Let's hope. I don't like these tunnels."

"You can say that again. It's too quiet; I've been surprised we haven't met anyone yet."

"If we do run into somebody, what happens?"

"Try to bluff out of it, and if that doesn't work, run. I'm a halfway decent shot with this bow but it really isn't very good, and it's nowhere near strong enough for defense against people. With them it's best for a show – most folks don't like moving toward pointy things aimed at them, even if they have a gun."

"Is that supposed to be encouraging or discouraging?"

"Let's settle for realistic. Come on, we'd better go – don't want to waste the torch."

They walked on in silence for several minutes, each alone with her thoughts. Much to their relief there were no sounds of movement from before or behind, and Clara was just starting to hope that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all when a hollow clank echoed through the tunnel.

The girls froze and stared at each other with wide, scared eyes. Clara said what they were both thinking. "That was the door back there, the one we just came through."

"Put out the torch," Erin hissed.

Clara jammed the torch against one of the rails. She was only partially successful in extinguishing the flame, and Erin added the efforts of her moccasin-like boot. The burning rag fell to the ground, still lazily burning, and the two girls stamped frantically on it.

The darkness that suddenly engulfed them was absolute. Clara had been straining her eyes to see in the dim light of the torch, and now that her sense of sight was rendered completely useless she felt disoriented. From the blackness came a hand and she barely choked back a yelp before she realized that the cold fingers gripping her arm were Erin's. The other girl's hold was firm – firm enough to tell Clara that her new friend was as frightened as she, maybe more so. Rustling noises could now be heard behind them, and they were rapidly getting closer.

The girls groped along the wall as fast as they could, hearts pounding so loud they were certain their pursuer could hear them. Even if it couldn't it was still gaining on them, and Clara was sure they were about to be caught when the wall suddenly disappeared from beneath her hand. She felt about blindly for a moment before she realized that a faint light was coming from somewhere, and in that light she could see they were in a trough running through an elevated deck. Erin scrambled up onto this without hesitation, and Clara followed suit. The deck stood perhaps four feet above the tracks, and both girls hoped that whatever was following them would at least be slowed down by the drop.

The hope was short-lived. There was a snuffling noise only yards away and the click of claws against steel rails. Then a shadow leaped at them, and Erin threw caution to the winds. "Run!"

They barely made it four paces before there was a flash and an electric pop. Erin moaned and Clara saw her outline slump to the floor. Terror squeezed in her chest, but before she could cry out a shock went through her and the world went blank.

* * *

_Hey folks, I checked my two previous chapters and realized the links weren't functional. I fixed them now; you'll have to put in a few dots, but other than that they're good. Do check out those stories. Seriously, they're good. And here's another:_

Alone, Again_ by That-Awesome-Person (www *dot* fanfiction *dot* net/s/9915823/1/Alone-again). They're trapped and quite possibly freezing to death. It's all Rory can do to keep from panicking when the Doctor and Amy leave him behind again. Time is running out, and he can no longer feel the beat of their hearts. Rory is not just another Doctor-tag-along with a knack for being the comic relief. He is also the Last Centurion. And perhaps the bravest, most self-sacrificing companion the Doctor has ever had. Oneshot._

_Please do review. Honestly. I like reviews. :)_

_Foeseeker_


	4. Blossom of Snow - Puzzle Box

She felt stiff and dizzy. Gentle arms were around her, and a hand brushed her forehead.

"Clara!" It was the Doctor's voice. "Come on, Clara!"

Clara groaned and opened her eyes to see the Doctor's silhouetted face over hers. She tried to sit up, but her head spun and she sank back with a groan. The Doctor hugged her close. "Easy there, you'll be all right in a minute."

"Wh….what happened? Where'd you come from?"

"Got knocked out with some sort of taser, like you. Takes a little while for the effects to wear off – you should be fine."

"Where's Erin?"

"Here; she'll be all right."

"Where'd you go earlier?"

"Sorry 'bout that; I heard something when I woke up and popped down for a look, but it got a little out of hand."

"Where are we?"

"Some sort of cage – it's made from all sorts of rubbish. Pretty sturdy, though; couldn't crack it open. Think you can sit up?"

Clara responded by easing herself into a sitting position. "Yeah, I'm good. Go take care of Erin, I'll be fine."

A groan and a string of muttered incoherencies told them Erin had awoken. The Doctor slid over to make sure she was all right, and once she was awake she began asking the same questions Clara had. While the Doctor answered, Clara explored their quarters. It was irregular in shape, perhaps ten or twelve feet across and constructed from sheet metal and concrete slabs. It was not sealed – there were many places she could easily stick her entire arm through – but the sheer mass of the materials that boxed them in was awfully daunting. With a vague idea of pulling something in to use as a lever, she began peering through the gaps. The first few yielded nothing; then she spotted a bulky something lying close by on the floor. She reached through and her hand came into contact with something cold and a bit slimy. Her fingers explored it cautiously.

With a horrified gasp she pulled back, scraping her arm in her haste. The Doctor reacted with concern. "Clara, what's wrong?"

"There's something dead – on the floor, just outside."

"Let me see." The Doctor joined her, holding his sonic through the opening. There was a moment of baited breath as he peered out.

"Doctor, what is it?"

"It's a human body."

"Oh my stars … What happened to him?"

"Can't rightly say; blimey, he's been completely torn open. Maybe an animal."

Clara exchanged a horrified look with Erin, who asked, "Could … could it have been what caught us?"

"Maybe."

Clara watched him suspiciously. "Doctor, you're not telling us something."

"Um … I think – I think we might be in a pantry."

"Okay … okay, so we're something's food, then?"

"Could be. Hopefully not." The Doctor studied the debris around the opening. "I think he was pulled through here."

"Through that tiny opening?" Erin was skeptical.

"No, no, no, well, sort of. Whatever it was moved some of these wall bits to make it big enough and then moved them back. So, theoretically, we should be able to get out."

"Theoretically?" Clara queried. "Which means…?"

"That it's actually impossible, but it's a nice thought. Shut up, I'm thinking."

"About what, hm?"

All three of the prisoners jumped. A sleek, furred face had suddenly appeared at one of the crevices. It looked like a cross between a bear and an otter, with wickedly sharp white fangs and beady black eyes. The Doctor replied with caution. "About what a mess we've gotten into. Why don't you let us out? We don't bite."

"Hm, I do, though." The creature nodded toward the dead man. A small metal casing somehow fastened behind its ear glinted in the weak light. "I think you already found our latest meal."

"What, that poor bloke? Yeah, and a fine job that was – what did you do, bleed him to death?"

"Of course not! That is far too uncouth for a Havaran; besides, it's messy."

"Havaran, huh? What're you doing out here?"

The creature nodded toward Erin. "Her."

The Doctor was genuinely puzzled. "What do you want with her? No offense, Erin."

"None taken." The girl looked bewildered. "Are you … talking to that thing?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's just kind of growling and barking. Can you understand it?"

"Of course I can understand it, I'm an alien time traveler with a sonic screwdriver and a bow tie, what else do you expect?"

"I can understand him too," Clara said quickly. "It's – something that comes with time travelling. I'll explain later."

Erin clearly wasn't satisfied, but she nodded. "Okay. What's it saying?"

The Doctor hesitated. "He's a Havaran – that's a kind of alien – and killed that man out there. He also seems to be hunting you."

"What? Why?"

"Hasn't told us yet. Hey, you, what's your name? Why are you after her?"

"I'm called Theel, and we need her life-force. Very few have such a force, and while it serves no special purpose for her, for us it would be greatly prized."

"Her life-force? Isn't that somewhat … abstract?"

"Perhaps, but the Havaran have ways to harness such things. For her, however, that will come later, once she has been properly prepared. You and the other female will serve a more basic function."

"What, your teatime snack?"

"Our ship ran out of fuel shortly after we landed, and we are in the process of repowering it."

The Doctor's face showed disgust. "Do you mean to say we're going to be batteries for your ship?"

"Essentially, yes." Theel shrugged, clearly quite comfortable with the idea that the ends justify the means. His movement caused the little silver casing behind his ear to gleam again. "We will extract your life-forces and use them and the others we have collected, once we have enough, to leave this place."

"Is that your usual fuel?"

"No, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and we have a mission to accomplish."

"What, harvesting one poor girl's life-force for your own filthy uses?"

"Getting a little ruffled, Doctor? Yes, if you choose to put it that way, that is what we're doing."

"What's so special about hers? Why not somebody else's?"

"She sings. I can hear her now – we adjusted our psychamps to match her song-pulse. She is frightened; the music in her head is the fear-song of the Azons, and we taught it to her in her sleep. We have put much in her head in the past months, and she never knew – we gave her much, and her life-force has grown strong, but not strong enough. A little preparation more and she will be ready."

Movement caught Clara's eye. Beyond Theel she now could tell that the light she was seeing by came from what must be the Havaran equivalent for a lantern. It was pale but steady light and was reflected in the silver plating of a gracefully lined spaceship. Another creature stood beside it, identical to the first; his long tail almost brushed the floor, and he moved almost silently on six velvet paws. "Theel, I need your help getting the extractor hooked up."

"Coming, Prassus." Theel turned away from the cage. "Is that wire causing trouble again?"

"Erin, are you okay?" said Clara. The other girl looked confused and scared; Clara had been repeating their captor's words to her, and what he'd said had unnerved her. "But I – Doctor, what was it talking about? Why does it want me?"

The Doctor sighed. "Erin, do you remember last night when I said you have a gift with music?"

"Yeah, what does that have anything –"

"It has everything to do with it. See, every living thing has a life-force. For some it's a word, for others it's an ideal, but for you it's music. I don't know why, but he thinks it will be useful, and he's been making it stronger by putting things into your head."

"What does that mean?"

"They're using psychamps – psychic amplifiers. It's that little silver thing strapped to their heads; see it? It channels their brainwaves into anything they have it tuned to, and they've got it tuned to you. They can hear your life-force and, when you're in a dormant state, like when you're asleep, they can affect it. Sounds like they've been feeding you music-y stuff for a while."

Erin seemed dazed by all this, and Clara found herself holding the other girl's hand comfortingly while the Doctor poked about their prison in a vain search for some weakness. Clara watched him. "So, Doctor, have you got a plan?"

"Not really, no." The Time Lord sat back on his heels and rubbed his chin, contemplating a particularly drab-looking piece of concrete. "If this place had a door we could get out in no time, but the sonic can only unlock things, not move stuff."

"Why do you call it 'the sonic'?" asked Erin.

"It's a sonic screwdriver. I just shorten the name."

"It sure doesn't look like a screwdriver."

"That's because it's sonic, it does sonic-y stuff."

"Like what?"

"Unlock doors, reverse electrical polarity, turn lights on and off - it comes in handy. Doesn't work on wood, though. Or move things. Which in this case puts us somewhat at a disadvantage."

Clara suddenly had a thought. "Doctor, what did you say the creatures - Havaran - are wearing? Those little silver things?"

"Psychamps, why?"

"Are they electrical?"

"Yes, but –" The Doctor suddenly caught on and grinned. "Oh, oh, that's very clever! Oh, yes, this just might work!"

Erin waved him into silence as their captors made their way over to the cage. Sending a fleeting grin toward the girls the Doctor pressed his face to one of the gaps, calling out, "Please, don't do this. If you let us go I can get fuel for your ship. Just please, stop this!"

Theel laughed, not pleasantly. "You're a time traveler, Doctor – yes, I've been listening. You make promises, then fly off and leave us here as stuck as before. No, we'll do this our way."

"No, no, I don't do that! I'll get you what you need, just stop this killing, let us go!"

"Let you go? You, perhaps, Doctor, but not that girl."

"All or none – let us all go and I'll get you fuel."

"She stays here."

"All right then. Fine. Have it your way." The Time Lord straightened his bow tie. "Go on, then, get if over with."

Theel put his shoulder against a concrete slab and heaved. With an awful screech it slid to one side, and furred paws roughly hauled the Doctor out. He straightened his coat indignantly. "Oi, watch it! Dignity in death and all!"

Prassus snorted. "Humans!"

"Begging your pardon, I am most definitely not a human!"

The sonic buzzed and the Havaran began pawing at their psychamps as though trying to dislodge them. The Doctor watched with a grim smile. "And, incidentally, nothing says nonhuman like a sonic screwdriver!" He peered through the opening. "Well, you two coming?"

"But we're having such fun in here!" Clara replied, clambering out with Erin hard on her heels. The British girl stared around; they were in a massive, vaulted space whose furthest corners were untouched by the lantern light. "Where are we?"

"The Plaza," Erin replied. "It was a big station for the subway – four different lines crossed here. What's wrong with those two?"

"I reversed their psychamps," said the Doctor. "Won't do any damage, but at the moment their heads feel like they inhaled a beehive. What's the fastest way out?"

"Um … that tunnel over there."

They made their way to it, throwing cautious glances back toward the Havaran as they went. Their erstwhile captors were still pawing at their psychamps, and Clara wondered how long it would be before one of them was successful. She didn't have to wonder long. As they headed up the tunnel, first one and then another eerie yowl suddenly echoed around them. Even as the sound filled their ears the Doctor grabbed Erin, who happened to be closest, and propelled her forward. "Run!"

They raced down the tunnel, but the Havaran were faster and drew closer by the moment. Clara stared around frantically for some way out. Her efforts were quickly rewarded. "Look! Over there!"

"Hurry!" The Doctor shoved the two girls towards the ladder and clambered up after them. He could hear scrabbling paws on the rungs below, but – thank God! – having six limbs does not lend well to ladder-climbing, and with their pursuers so handicapped he made it to the top with several yards to spare. A final heave sent him tumbling through the door just beyond, which Clara promptly slammed.

"Doctor, can you lock it?"

The Doctor fumbled with his screwdriver and pointed it at the door. There was a satisfying click. "That should do it. Erin, which way?"

"Um … left, I think."

They took off again. This was another storm drain and they were forced to go more slowly, though their feet were spurred on by the loud banging behind them. Clara glanced over her shoulder. "Will that door hold?"

"I think so," replied the Doctor what I'm worried about is …"

"Is what?"

"That."

"What?"

"That." He pointed behind. The banging had stopped.

"Why? They've gone."

"Exactly. How many other ways up are there?"

There was a moment of horrified silence. Then Clara turned to Erin. "What's the fastest way out of here?"

"Not sure, but there should be a ladder or something soon – usually pretty regular."

"Can't be soon enough for me."

They hurried down the tunnel, passing only flat concrete walls and broken lights. There were no sounds from any direction, nor were there any ladders. Clara was starting to get really worried when they emerged into one of the many tunnel intersections. This one had a ladder built into one wall, and at its top a faint circle of light outlined the shaft cover. Erin glanced down the other tunnels and then put a foot on the lowest rung. "Let's hope they don't get here before we're out."

It was a much further climb than the decent from Erin's stairwell, and Clara found her arms getting tired before she realized the Erin had stopped.

"Erin, what's wrong?"

"Sorry!" came the muffled reply. "I'm at the top; just need to get this cover off."

There were several grunts and a horrible scraping sound; then a glorious sliver of sunlight poured down on them. So did a heap of snow. Erin spluttered as the powder covered her face, and she loosened a hand to wipe it away. "Okay, that works. One more push should do it."

Even as she shoved the cover free a yowl came from below. The Havaran were on their trail again. Clara clambered from the shaft after Erin as fast as she could and was followed by the Doctor, who tumbled into the snow yelling for them to replace the cover. The two girls willingly grabbed the heavy metal disc and hauled it into place, where it settled with a satisfying clank. They exchanged looks and Erin said what they were all thinking. "Think that'll hold them?"

"Not a chance," replied the Doctor as he dusted the snow from his coat, "but they don't seem to do ladders well, so we have a bit of time. Although, for a time traveler, I never seem to have enough of that when I need it."

"Doctor, look!" Clara cried.

They had emerged in what might have once been a park, and the frozen surface of the river could be seen a short distance away. There was no rubble close by to provide any kind of shelter, but it had stopped snowing by now and, in the snow-bright morning sunlight, was a smudge of blue against the white and grey. Clara was pointing toward it excitedly. "Doctor, I think that's the Tardis!"

"Haha, so it is!" cheered the Time Lord. "Come on! You too, Erin!" he added as another angry yowl came from below.

The American, however, was suddenly looking decidedly unsteady. "Um, Doctor, I – I think I'm about to have one of my attacks."

"Not now, we're busy!"

"It's not like I have any control over it!" Erin snapped, and Clara saw fear in her eyes. "I'd better stay –"

"No, Erin, hold on," began the Doctor, but even as he spoke Erin slumped to the ground. Clara crouched beside her, alarmed.

"Doctor, what –"

Another yowl interrupted her. The Time Lord knelt in the snow. "Clara, help me get her up."

With his young friend's help the Doctor got Erin across his shoulders in a fireman's carry. She proved to be a relatively easy burden, thin as she was, and they started off as fast as they could toward the Tardis. By the time the Havaran emerged from the shaft the motley trio was already halfway to their goal, but as they drew near to the Tardis a new problem reared its head.

Or rather heads.

They were five in number, four men and a woman. Horribly gaunt and filthy, several with uncovered skin revealing the blue of frostbite, they slouched from the drifts of snow almost on all fours. Without a doubt these were the madmen Erin had spoken of, possibly even the same ones from which they'd fled the previous day. Under other circumstances they would have been a pitiable sight, but Clara could feel only fear as they circled the trio with crazed, hungry eyes. She slowed her pace, unwilling to go nearer than she could help, and felt the Doctor beside her. "Clara, just keep walking, look confident and head straight for the Tardis. Maybe they'll…"

"Maybe they'll what?"

"I don't know, go make snow angels, maybe play cricket with snowballs. Love a good cricket game."

"Is that the best you've got?" A chorus of Havaran snarls answered Clara's indignant protest, and she glanced back to see the two creatures closing the gap with disconcerting speed.

"I'd come up with something a lot cleverer if I weren't so busy," retorted the Doctor. His attention was drawn by one of the madmen, who lurched into his path and stared at him with a frighteningly steady gaze. The Time Lord flapped a hand. "Shoo, move, hop to it."

Clara saw the creature gathering its weight, got a look at the crazed eyes, and moved on impulse.

_Whump!_

The madman was startled and momentarily blinded by a snowball full in the face. The Doctor turned to stare in surprise at his young friend. "Clara, what are you–"

Clara yelped as another wild-eyed man leaped at them and sent her second snowfall flying at his head. "They're coming, Doctor, hurry!"

They were indeed coming, though "they" could be Havaran or madmen or both – not that it made much difference. The Doctor ran, Erin's sagging head bumping against his shoulder with each step. He could hear a cacophony of human and Havaran snarls behind him, punctuated with several loud cries of pain. For one gut-wrenching second he thought the cries were Clara's; then he saw her still running, getting a bit of a lead on him because of his burden, and even in their predicament he felt a wave of relief.

Then suddenly they were there. Clara slid to a stop fumbling with the key, and the lock clicked back. She tumbled through and the Doctor with his still-unconscious burden followed right behind. He turned to shut the door and, for a moment, stood transfixed by the dreadful sight outside.

The two Havaran, finding their way impeded, had attacked the madmen, and the snow was spattered with red. One man lay still, two more had fled, and the remaining two were bulled aside by Theel as he leaped at the Doctor with claws bared. The Time Lord hastily slammed the door, and there was a heavy thump and an angry snarl. "We'll find her, Doctor; one way or another, we will have her."

"Not if I have anything to do with it. I am the Doctor, and she is under my protection, so if you think for a second that you're going to win this one you'd better think again."

"You're too late. Her song has grown strong – soon we will be able to track it across the stars because you, Doctor, will give her what she wants – you've already begun. Until then, we can wait."

"Wait as long as you like, you won't have her."

There was no reply; the Havaran had gone. The Doctor leaned against the door for a moment, exhausted and trying to fathom Theel's parting shot. Then he gave up and knelt to gather Erin into his arms with a teasing grin in Clara's direction. "Snowballs, eh? That was mad and so very clever. How'd you think of it?"

"You said it first," the girl mumbled in reply, almost drowned out by the singing that was again coming over the monitor; Erin's proximity had increased its volume. Clara, however, didn't seem to notice. "Doctor … those people, they – their eyes – it was awful. Can we do anything?"

"Not us, no."

"Can anyone?"

"I hope so, for her sake." The Doctor nodded down at Erin, who was slumped limply against his chest. "Do you mind if I put her on your bed? I can't exactly fly us with no hands."

Clara shook herself out of her stupor. "Not at all – I'll nip down with you and make sure it's tidy. Out of curiosity, where are we going?"

"Reja Magnum. I've got an old friend there who might be able to help."

* * *

_If you liked this, take a look at Garmonbozia's _Memento Vivere_ (www *dot* fanfiction *dot* net/s/9494284/1/Memento-Vivere). First the Doctor has to have an argument with the Tardis, and then Clara gets dressed up like a spy. Throw in a group of futuristic Roman-types in a massive forbidden temple and shenanigans ensue. Don't worry; there's a time for everything. Three-shot. A really good three-shot. Like I said, check it out._

_I'm back at school, so updates will be more sporadic and spaced out._

_Please review! :)_

_Foeseeker_


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